It was the end of the dry season in Sri Lanka and the pavement temperatures in Colombo soared to 35C. I had been walking all morning sightseeing. My tee shirt hung, sweat wet and limp, my underpants were wringing wet. I was tired of being hassled by tuk-tuk drivers and sidewalk vendors. I was off the main routes and I spotted salvation, an a/c spa that offered full body oil massage. Going in there were many attendant spa staff all dressed in distinctive red uniforms. Using my credit card I paid for an hour full body relaxing oil massage. My allocated female attendant was a Sri Lankan woman. She took my hand and led me up the steep staircase to find a vacant cubicle.

We went up three floors before a suitable cubicle was found. The cubicles were made of plasterboard with walls only going 1.8m high, so open to the ceiling with a curtain hanging across the doorway. Neither soundproof or private. I asked if I could take a shower before the massage. There was a stool in the cubicle on which I put my damp clothes, and with only a towel around my waist I was taken to the showers, more of a large wet room. She kept putting her head in the door and asking if everything was alright.

“Come back to the cubicle,” she said.

I returned refreshed to the cubicle where she was waiting. I reached for my wet underpants and she said “Leave!”

So with a towel around my waist and naked underneath I stood before my Ceylonese massage lady. Just then we were joined by another female attendant. I guessed that they did not get many white men here and I was a curiosity. They then each clasped the front of the towel and removed it with a flourish letting it drop to the floor. I stood stark naked before them my package fully exposed for both to examine, which they did. This is when they decided it was time for introductions.

“What’s your name?”

I told them then was told that my attendant was called Fen and the visitor Mara. Standing naked in their presence I did not feel embarrassed if anything a little proud showing off my white body to these two young ladies. I had visions of a four handed full body massage. The massage bed was there and they hand indicated for me to get on, with touchy hands helping me. I asked if I should lie on my back or my tummy.

I heard, “Back,” so lay on my back, naked for them to view.

I realized that where this spa was in Colombo that not many white clientele came and that they never saw many naked white men. With the inspection sort of over they made obvious comments about my white naked body. I felt both proud and aroused showing off my naked white body to these two ladies.

“Turn over.”

So lying on my stomach I regained some modesty. This was enforced by a small towel being put across my white bum to indicate the beginning of the massage. This was for gesturing only for with a flourish the towel was totally removed, never to be used or seen again during the one-hour massage. I was now lying naked, uncovered, face down my large six feet three white frame filling the massage bed. The back massage started at the bottom, my bottom, a very good place to start. Copious amounts of warm oil were poured into the crack between my bum cheeks, running seductively down and round to my as yet untouched testicles. With a two handed, five finger massage both my bum cheeks were vigorously massaged. After a while the tempo slowed and the focus moved to the crack with fingers being seductively caressed along the crack.

Thumbs were used and the focused, targeted area being the anus orifice. Slowly oily fingers were twirled around the target area, pushing ever so gently. I had never had this erogenous zone massaged before and it was becoming both comfortable and pleasurable. Every now and then a finger would push on and slightly into my anal orifice. Was a well-oiled teak-colored digit going to be plunged into my virgin arse any minute? Just when it was getting exciting the focus moved to my legs, which were spread wide apart. Generous amounts of oil were applied to my inner thighs, which seemed to need more attention than the traditional calf muscle massage. The massage strokes from the inner knee started shortly, slow and gentle but gradually became longer, faster, more severe and daring pushing up between my inner thighs and testicles until my testicles were being boldly cupped. The eggs were clutched in one hand and pulled down, stretched to a point of pain.

I must have winced, for Fen said, “Good for you, make strong seed.”

The same procedure was followed on the right inner thigh, again being told that the testicular massage was very healthy for a man and should be done often. She certainly had me by my balls. Then the sensuous business of massaging my feet, backs of my calves, lower back upper back and shoulders began.

With head on the pillow I must have fallen asleep for the next thing I can remember I was told, “Time to turn over.”

She helped me turn over clutching at my naked body, fearful of me falling off the narrow bed. I now lay naked on the bed face up still drowsy.

Then I heard Fen say, “Very handsome”

“No,” I replied modestly.

“Handsome,” she said, pointing at my small white flaccid cock.

It lay there also fast asleep a crumpled foreskin nestled in the safety of its testicular nest.

“Very small,” I responded, pointing at my withered phallus.

“Not small,” she said. “Nice size. All Sri Lanka women like small cock. Big cock very painful for lady,” she said

At this point she called out in her language and we were again joined by Mara to both see and discuss the merits and demerits of my cock size. They stood over me like two morticians in a morgue or two surgeons in an operating theatre examining the patient.

Mara stretched her thumb and index finger to maximum width, saying, “Small size good. Most Asian men small size.”

What amused me was that her measure of small erect size was certainly longer than my erect 4 inches. I was getting aroused by the direction of the conversation and decided to take it further.

“White ladies like big cocks,” I said. “Mine too small for white ladies. They like BIG cocks!”

I indicated with two hands and the index fingers as a ruler of about nine inches.

“Very painful for us lady”

“Black man have very big, thick cock,” I counted using my hands to indicate length and thickness.

Slowly the subject of the conversation feeling left out, decided to come out of hibernation, rising up from its testicular basket like a cobra, well a small white cobra at least. At that point Mara left us alone. The Asian man in the cubicle next to me must have been getting a good massage as his moaning intensified, from soft and slow to louder and faster and an eventual, “Arghhh!”

Fen had moved around to the head of the table. Sorry, let me describe her. She was Indo Asian with a teak/brown skin, beautiful long black/indigo hair typical of Asian women, about 5 feet 5 inches tall with a very friendly anticipating smile. What struck me, as I am a boob man, were her large breasts about 38 C cup which are large for Asian women. She wore a sandalwood-type perfume which added to the exotic air. She said she was 32 years old. Standing with her tummy against my head with both her arms came over my head to massage my chest. Somehow she had loosened her hair, which now hung freely. She had also undone the buttons on her red tunic to expose her braless teak-colored tits which also hung freely.

Pushing her hands down my chest, her fingertips just reaching my pubic bone, but not touching my erect penis, her black hair curtain brushed across my body and her two tits massaged either side of my cheeks. My on-full-view cock, which was very erect, responded by twitching in time to her administrations. She seemed to enjoy rubbing her brown tits from my ears to my mouth. Then just as things were getting heated and fearful of me cumming prematurely, she stood behind me and stretched my left arm back and up so that my hand rested between her tits. She massaged my arm and kept moving, encouraging me to fondle her delectable breast.

Then she changed to the other arm and the same procedure. It gave my humble white cock time to recover, however, the telltale sign of precum was oozing copiously from the tip of my cock. Fen then moved to lean over my waist to massage the upper side of my legs. As her hands slid down each leg her long black/indigo sheen hair dragged deliberately over and across my sensitive erect white penis, the odd strand of hair would catch and pull, the odd hair would cut into the penis shaft. My precum was flowing freely now her hair gathering it up in her administrations.

It aroused me further to think that my precum from my small white cock was adding to the sheen of her lustrous hair. She finished the front of leg massage and stood by my naked side her long hair hanging on my stomach, her hands idling around my lower stomach her long painter finger nails drawing patterns on my tummy. Doing this, she never touched my raging cock, which I found more erotic than if she had just taken that stiff member in hand and given a well-deserved wanking. She clenched her left hand and then using her right index finger pushed it in and out of the clenched left hand, the universal sign language for fucking.

Doing this, she asked me, “Do you like to fuck?”

I nodded.

“You have a girlfriend?”

“No,” I said.

She was horrified by my reply, and said, “All Sri Lankan men have girlfriend!”

Then she looked worried in case she had crossed a line.

“Do you have boyfriend?”

Emphatically no!

“You want me to find you a Sri Lankan girlfriend?”

Mara must have finished her task in the cubicle next door and came to join us again, me quiet unperturbed in my naked state with rampant small white cock erection streaming precum.

They giggled at the truth. The massage part was over. I was stood up naked between them. They both took turns giving my bum and testicles the odd squeeze, but to my surprise never touching my cock that was still jutting out in front of me. Now the Happy Ending negotiations begin.

They asked more of an instruction than a question, “You want to be happy?”

The menu and price list was verbally conveyed a hand job as so many US dollars, blow job so many US dollars, the whole catastrophe with kissing sucking and fucking was only US$100! They would both be there and take turns. USD100 x 2, I thought. They assume that because you are white you have plenty of money. It was tempting and they were excellent sales ladies, but I was on a backpacking holiday and did not have that sort of money. Yes, I did give them each a tip, but not the tip of a horny small white cock that was rampant and ready to experience a teak-colored ‘Happy Ending’ in Colombo.